Back From the Pseudo-Break

I’ve been away from the interwebz for a little bit until today. It was a nice break, though I wouldn’t necessarily call it a break. It was quite busy with the choir tour and everything. I wrote a little rant last night/morning since I couldn’t sleep on the bus ride back. I’ll post it up shortly. It’ll male a fat post, so it should more than make up for my recent absence. I’m so tired, hehe. And my biological rhythms are eeewwww. 

When It Ends

I’ve competed as a wrestler for around seven years of my life. It feels like all of my life. The mats are familiar, they are my element. It’s been a pleasure to grace them. But as of now, I have to say goodbye to that stage of life. As a competitive wrestler, I don’t see any future. Too few colleges around here that have wrestling programs while offering top-notch academics at the same time. School comes first now.

However…

My last four year years as a wrestler, I never really had an opportunity to show what I’m made of. Adversity held me off the mats for quite a while. But I kept coming back. I never let it hold me. The thrill of the chase… that’s what I wanted to feel in the end.

Victory wasn’t defined by the points on the scoreboard for me at the end. It was about the act of wrestling, about the act of doing what I loved. That’s what mattered to me.

When I took second in the league, even with a torn ligament and wrestling opponents with a significant weight advantage over me, I qualified for the sectionals tournament. My elbow has gotten worse though and I decided that enough was enough. Besides, I intend to heal as soon as possible so I can work out again. We have a rising star among our ranks. From what I’ve seen in the practice room, I’m the only one who can push him. If my potential is not to be seen through my competitive career, it shall be seen through whatever coaching I can do.

I’ve always wanted to see my team as a powerhouse, as a big name. Maybe now, after my previous dream ended, I can begin another one. Maybe I can realize our team’s power.

Combat Lust and Angst

Today we had our final league meet. We lost, but the team made a statement. It just came down to the other team having more guys than we did, so they filled in more weight classes to collect the forfeit points. Oh well. We definitely handed it to them though when we did have matches against the other team. It was awesome. The team has such young talent… they will all grow to insane heights, I’m excited for them, truly.

I can not dwell on their possibilities though.

My own possibilities are my priority.

Sitting on the side watching the team wrestle like that… it was so thrilling. But having to sit there stirred up some of my bloodthirst as well. My combat lust has shot through the roof. I give my elbow dirty looks now and then. It’s not to blame… I still can’t believe that I invested a ligament into a guy who ended up quitting on the team when three weeks were left in the season. That ass, he said that he wanted to focus on baseball. Screw you dude, I invested an elbow ligament into improving you as a wrestler, and this is how you repay me? Good job for focusing on proving yourself to be a dumbass. It’s not like you didn’t know what you were signing up for.

Anyway, I’ll keep this post brief, for I don’t want to pound on my elbow too much… it’s crazy how we use it for EVERYTHING we do. I needed to blow some steam off though. I tend to get heated the most just before bed because that’s when I lay down and it’s all quiet and my mind can carry me away to things that piss me off.

Now… I will dream of the day when I can find absolution through my art. I dream of the day when I can prowl the resilite again.

It Isn’t A Game Anymore

As I was being lifted up from the table to be shipped into the massive tunnel with a General Electric logo on the top, I had to suppress a giggle fit. The jerking and the noises the table made were weird and perhaps the oddity was only amplified by the technician adjusting me into an awkward position so my elbow could be imaged. And then the ear plugs. And that awkward gown with three holes, all of them for your arms (I had to ask how to put it on after I spent a few minutes trying to figure out if the third hole was for putting my head through or not). Those were funny too. My torso was in a fetal position while my legs were facing straight ahead with the knees bent. I glided into the cramped tube, wondering how anybody with greater girth could ever go in there. I was in.

The technician talked to me through the intercom and the imaging began. I felt like I was in a sci-fi movie. The noises that the entire contraption made were unlike anything I’ve heard before. I was still suppressing giggles for the first five minutes. Then my body realized how unnatural it was to be stuffed into a giant machine in a half-fetal position with deafening noises of ungodly frequencies flying about and I felt fear for a minute. It was easy to calm down… I just trusted the process. I made a game of treating all of the different frequencies, treating them like a music track, finding the different layers. I focused on the layers that I liked the best and yes, oddly enough, there were frequencies in the MRI that I actually liked listening to.

I started to fall asleep and occasionally when the technician asked how I was doing through the intercom, I replied that I was fine. I started twitching as I tried to keep my body in a restful state without falling completely asleep. Eventually, it was done and I undressed and bounced out, eagerly awaiting the results.

When they came, it wasn’t a game any more. This all happened yesterday.

The collateral ligament in my elbow is torn by about fifteen percent… not the worst, but the injury won’t recover by before the end of the season. And it’s the kind of injury that if I try to push, it will have future consequences. Just so you know what the collateral ligament does, think of your knees for a second. Now think of your knees being knock-kneed. There are ligaments in your elbow that support the joint that prevent “knock-elbows,” like how there are ligaments in your knees that prevent knock-knees. If I tear this ligament further, it will mean less support for my elbow and a harder future as an old person (my orthopedist, bless his heart, said something among the lines of, “It won’t be your friend anymore”).

This, however, is my last wrestling season. Senior year. This is it. This injury, as serious as it is… well… I never believed in an injured vessel keeping a willful soul down. This isn’t a game to me. It never was, but it definitely isn’t now. I have three weeks, and throughout these weeks, the main question will be: what is the price that I’m going to pay? Ever since sixth grade, I’ve always looked up to the walls of our mat room that have our past league champs, to be inspired by the legacy that our team has forged. I wanted to be a part of that. But I was barred away.

Freshman year, I was beaten for the varsity spot for a senior who once abandoned the team during a meet (he was never punished for such treason; the head coach at the time let him walk on the mat like nothing happened afterwards). Sophomore year, I had achilles tendinitis and was beaten by a freshman and once again beaten by a wrestler who didn’t work as hard as I did after I stepped onto the mat, rusty from having to work around my injury for a large portion of the season. I still remember that I could barely walk after the day I wrestled two challenge matches in a row to try and crack the line-up and my achilles tendinitis was aggravated even more. During a big tournament that same year, I unknowingly broke my left middle finger, and it later got infected the same morning that I was supposed to be with the team for NCS duals. I missed our historic win that day. Junior year, a rash of infections affected me and a handful of other wrestlers. After a month of staying off the mat, my first tournament was the league championships. I took third, after my humiliating defeat in my first match… I was out of shape and my potential couldn’t be realized at that time.

And senior year. Here it is. I still remember the one article that was written by the high school newspaper. I remember how the names of “key wrestlers” included mine. And I remember how I didn’t turn out to be so “key” after all. Of all the humiliations I’ve gone through, that one is the worst one to me. The fury that I get from thinking about that article is why I’m still here. It’s part of the reason that I have the will that I have right now. It is why this is not a game anymore.

Dem Frustrations and Other Things

Elbow injuries blow. You use your arms for so much stuff, even for leg exercises. I was just on the elliptical yesterday and my right elbow hurt from the bouncing, even though I didn’t use the arm… pumping things… I don’t know what the arm components of an elliptical are called, don’t judge. Even though I work out a ton, I don’t really know all of the engineering behind the machines I work out on. Should I? I kinda feel guilty about it right now… but not guilty enough to start Googling about it.

Nay, instead, I am here to fulfill my obligation of a weekly post. Besides… I want to be a writer someday, I think it would be awesome. Perfect for my introverted self. Introversion might be considered a curse by others, but it’s truly not. Introversion means that you’re more likely to know yourself compared to the other people who roam about constantly getting into each others’ business. Though I’m not all vain about that advantage either, as my social skills are pretty lacking sometimes. I still say the wrong things during normal every day talk. Example:

Other person: “Hey, it’s nice to see you!”

Me: “Yeah.”

And then I move on. But I don’t reciprocate it properly. It’s so frustrating because every time I realize I’ve done this, the other person’s gone and it’s too late to remedy my mistake. Fffffuuuu-

Back to my bitch-ass elbow. I can’t believe I injured it doing a move during wrestling practice that I’ve done for the majority of my career. Like, lolwut, I hyperextended it in an awkward direction? I didn’t even know that risk was there, I’ve done the ankle pick so many times, how could I have even thought about it? Only the biggest dumbass of the kinesthetic sense could have done it, yet, here I am. Oh man. I go crazy when I have to go on the elliptical for so long. I break several times during the two hours that I have to be on it to come back to the wrestling room, to feel the resilite at my fingertips once more. And to make sure that my back’s doing okay.

Goddamn, the back. It only does everything. Screw that up and you’re screwed until your back decides to get better again. My back gave out about a month or month and a half ago. Nothing specific was being done, it just decided to spasm one day. Luckily I got a VERY cool chiropractor who helped me get back into the action. In retrospect, after going through that back episode, I realized how overrated core training is for back health. Yes, the stomach is very important for the back, but the back needs to be trained too.

In fact, the back rehab exercises I had to do made me into a better athlete. They worked my hamstrings and glutes, making my legs stronger, giving my body that much more support. It was awesome how quickly my booty evolved to become more amazing. Chicks, if you’re reading this and want to shape your butt… pelvic tilts and Supermans. That is all. You’ll have an even better butt than before.

And I say “even better butt” because it’s really hard to have a butt that doesn’t appeal to me. I have weird tastes. I think it’s a guy thing. Because honestly, it’s like, I recognize the butt as a chick’s butt so I’m like, “Hoohoo.” But if the butt is like, especially good, then I’m like, “HooHOOHOO.” Know what I’m saying? Probably not.

Anyway… there’s some guy on the wrestling team who thinks I use my injuries to get away from practice. It’s so annoying. I yelled at him after I couldn’t take it anymore and he hasn’t really given me a lot of direct crap about it, but today he was implying the same BS again. We were doing sprints though, so I couldn’t explain. Doesn’t really matter much now though. If I wanted to get out of wrestling, I’d be out already. Nothing rubs me the wrong way like being accused of skipping out on one of the things I love most. There’s a magic to the sport that outsiders don’t see. 

Most people think wrestling is gay because of the singlets, or because it’s two guys sweating on a mat together, or whatever. You could probably find something “gay” about other sports, to be honest. I still remember this one basketball drill I saw one day because I was waiting for wrestling practice to start… oh my. And football is arguably “gay” because, well, you’re dog-piling over a ball. Before you get all offended, I’m not saying that I actually believe in any of those thoughts. I’m just saying if you used the same logic as the same person who thinks of wrestling as “gay,” then you’d have to say that every other sport is “gay” to some extent.

There is a special magic to one-on-one combat with another person. It’s even more thrilling when you practice with the same person who can challenge you to try and take your varsity spot one day. It’s personal. It’s an intimacy you experience with no other kind of person. And for me… well, it’s the thrill of the hunt. After my first year of wrestling, I realized subconsciously that a “victory” wasn’t defined by the points on the scoreboard or by the referee who slaps his hand on the mat to call the pin. I “won” matches but could still have an empty feeling afterwards, no sense of accomplishment. It all depended upon the hunt: did I have to scramble furiously to get every point, were my techniques crisp and aesthetically pleasing to watch (when you execute a move so well, you just KNOW that it had to be the sexiest thing that a spectator could possibly have seen from the stiff-butt-inducing bleachers), did I feel amazing after the match? Or, in a nutshell: was it my best?

It became about the hunt and that’s what continues to be the case today. It’s the thrill of the chase for me. I did swimming last year and I loved it, it’s just about as hard as wrestling (if not a little harder because you’re in the water and if you’re tired you can get psychologically messed with because people aren’t supposed to be breathing water) and there was a stronger sense of a team element in it (the team element I’ll discuss in another post)… but it wasn’t the same. You can’t kick the water’s ass, you can’t shape its life, the stakes don’t quite feel as high. Swimming is more of a zen-mode sport. Wrestling’s a rage-mode sport, at least for me. I get to go a little crazy during wrestling, maybe even borderline psychotic as I pump myself up to get bloodthirsty, to get ready to wreck some kid who steps in the ring with me. And if he beats me by points, then I’ll have beaten him mentally in some way by making him so gassed out in the end. As for swimming… well, good luck swimming the shit out of that water, which really couldn’t be bothered by you at all. It would probably drown your annoying, sorry ass.

A Blog Post (After a Freakin’ Eternity)

Wow, this is totally unacceptable.

I haven’t posted in months. What happened? Sheesh. Well, life’s been a feels storm. I don’t necessarily want to share the details about that. In a nutshell: I’ve had a falling out with someone who was close and well, don’t really know what else is going to happen after that. Probably nothing. Who knows. But it’s the least of my worries right now.

School’s hell week is almost here with finals. That’s right. We’re among the poor bastards who have finals AFTER the winter break. We don’t do it smart like college, where finals are before vacay and you don’t have to worry about them afterwards. Now that’s totally cool. I thought high school was supposed to prepare us for the college life, huh? Well, really, it doesn’t.

To be honest I hate college as an institution (I just feel like so many things have went wrong with the way we handle our post-secondary education in this society), but as an experience, it seems like it could be a lot of fun. Of course, the institution can affect your experience by a fair amount, but the opportunities… I sense that they are there and that I can have them if I want to. I think that I’ll be able to take some risks when college comes around.

Oh, applications you say? Well, I saved myself the torture of those things because I want to do the community-college-then-transfer route. Applications I suppose, are things that I have to worry about the sophomore year of college. To be honest I don’t know how much more different it is if I’m a transferring college student. Hehe. That’ll be interesting.

Well I have some blogger friends that are finally getting back into things and they’ve been urging me to post something up. Totally fine, I could use some more writing for myself… it’s a skill that I think is important to sharpen. Well guys, here’s your damn post.

I apologize to my other readers who actually like reading my writing… I know that it’s been a long time. I’ll try to become a regular poster again. I’ll just mind dump my thoughts like I’m doing now. It feels pretty awesome right now. Anyways, TTFN!

The Virginity Conspiracy

This is simultaneously humorous and disturbing. I’ve been getting lots of pressure recently from a couple of friends to score with chicks. They think that the first time should be gotten over with swiftly. I have a few problems with this: 1) I don’t understand the rush at all and 2) I’m not the kind of person who can just get into bed with a chick. I desire romance, a concept that these two don’t seem to understand.

This pressure by itself I consider normal, especially if it’s only brought up once. However, this was brought up several times already. Annoyed and confused, I’d ask them, “What do you have to gain from this?” They then claim that I’m suffering without realizing it and that bros always look out for each other. They say that I need vagina pretty much now.

Uh, what?

Then this went too far.

Last Monday night, one of my best friends said that these same two friends were talking about getting me drunk to sleep with a chick while he was with them. He said he tried defending me, but they insisted that they could do it very easily, as I’m apparently really gullible.

My butthurt was beyond words.

I have various problems with this situation. In fact, the benefit of the doubt that I’ve been giving them so far has been reduced to such a miniscule amount that I’m somewhat uncomfortable around them. While I do have my gullible moments, I’m sure that most of them stem from the fact that I trust all of my friends. I’m like my mom in this regard; I hand out trust easily, but once violated… good luck getting it back. I’d understand if they joked around, if they said that I’d only sleep with a chick if I was drunk out of my mind, but apparently they were serious about it. I trust my source.

For now, my guard is up. I won’t do anything unless absolutely certain that that is their intention. If they are serious about it and will actually attempt to carry this out, I’m afraid I will have to cut some ties. If this happens, it will be an intolerably severe violation of trust. And most likely I won’t ever give it back. I’ll be cautious; I won’t accept any offers of food or drink from them.

I really wish that it was a tasteless joke. I honestly do. I’m allergic to this bullshit.